


Paris, c'est pour ceux qui aiment (Paris is for those who love)

by frostedquill



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coincidences, Falling In Love, Fireworks, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Older Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:44:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedquill/pseuds/frostedquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a flight to Paris Brett Talbot inadvertently reconnects with a friend from the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paris, c'est pour ceux qui aiment (Paris is for those who love)

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to post this last night but AO3 was down.

The sound of screaming children, the heavy smell of greasy food, the feel of anxiety, irritation and excitement permeated the stale air of JFK and assaulted his senses. Werewolves were not supposed to have migraines, but with the full moon close, it took all of his focus not transform and bite off the face off the frat boys a few rows behind him.

“We are now starting boarding for flight 1628 to Paris. We are now accepting first class…”

He was the first in line. The minute he got on the plane, he attached his seat belt and lowered the hood over his seat and cocooning himself in total darkness. It didn’t block out the sounds but the isolation allowed him to relax. He could feel his canines pressing on the skin of his mouth and he was sure that his eyes had changed colors.

He was very aware of his neighbor sitting next to and almost let out a growl when he heard a dial tone.

“Hey loser…” the voice was deep he immediately noted and stirred something familiar in his memory. However, at the moment he didn’t care. He let the man’s rich timber sooth his nerves and by the time the doors were closed he was asleep.

He woke up to the sound of some foreign music that doubled as an alarm. Resigned he pulled up the hood of his seat. He stretches and suddenly a familiar smell hits his nose. It comes from the seat next to him but the person has their hood partially down so he can’t see their face.

He finds himself impatient. There is something about the scent that excites him, like an itch he can’t scratch. The person’s scent is partially hidden, beneath an expensive cologne. He is about to give up when a stewardess knocks lightly on the hood.

“Your Ginger Ale sir.”

“Thank you.” He says. He watches from the corner of his eye as the hood slowly rises. _Three things cannot long be hidden, the sun, the moon, the truth…_

He immediately recognizes him. He’s haircut is more traditional, and he’s removed his earrings, but his dark skin still looks smooth and soft, the features of his face the same, if slightly more mature.

“Mason.” The name leaves his mouth before he thinks to speak.

“Do we… Brett. Brett Talbolt.” There is something about the way Mason says his name that makes him feel safe, and when he smiles, a genuine, happy smile, Brett can’t help but feel warm all over. “Speak of coincidence.”

“It’s been…”

“Ten years.” Mason finishes. “What are you doing now?”

“I took over my parents company.”

“That’s great. I know it meant a lot to you.” Mason replies and Brett is pleased that he remembers. "I heard that you were expanding overseas."

“We are. What have you been up to?”

“I write for a living.” Mason replies evasively. It takes some prodding but eventually Mason admits to writing a popular series of books. “They were kind of inspired but Beacon’s hill.”

“I know. I’ve read all of them.” Brett says.

“Really?”

Brett pulls out the third book of the series from his bag. “I knew it had to be someone knowledgeable about our world.”

Mason looks away but Brett notices the smile that he is trying to conceal.

The books are great, popular amongst the mundane and the supernatural alike. Mason has enough tactfulness not to recount their adventures in Beacon Hill. Yet the stories he tells, of hunters, weres, and other supernaturals, are familiar. Also his characters feel like old friends to Brett, none are like the McCall packs but they deal with issues familiar to anyone like loss, the insecurities that come from the emergence of ones powers, the struggle for control and the fear of being discovered. He even explores the perspective of the other side, of the humans caught in the crossfire.

“A lot of young werewolves read them, even some of the elder ones. Satomi likes to mark what you got wrong.” He laughs at Mason’s horrified face. “Don’t worry. It’s mostly about some of the theoretical things like the different weres method of attaining control like using a person as your anchor. She finds a person as an anchor unreliable.”

“What do you think?”

“There cannot be a single path to peace.”

“I can’t believe you just quoted me back to myself.” Mason says with a laugh. “Do you still live in Beacon hill?”

“Close enough to still be part of the pack.” Brett understands that Mason wants to change the subject so he obliges.

They spend hours talking, catching up on the events that occurred in the last ten years. They tease each other mercilessly over lunch and gossip like old maids over diner. Brett is unaware, but despite the effects of the full moon and altitude, he is relaxed and enjoying himself. However he is aware of Mason’s smile, the expressiveness of his eyes, the slight shifts to his heart rate and of the change in his smell. Every time Mason laughs or bites his lips, Brett feels the urge to kiss the man yet the pods keep them separated.

“You are tired.” Brett points out as Mason yawns yet again.

“I want to talk to you.” Mason protests with a yawn. His voice is quiet not to disturb the other sleepers; it’s Brett whose forced to raise his voice.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” Brett promises and Mason nods before he drifts off.

It’s true, he will be there but he suddenly realizes that he wants it to be true for the rest of their lives. He doesn’t understand how their friendship and the lingering attraction between them has developed into something more in the six hours they’d been reunited after a ten year separation. However while he knows that he feels something more for Mason but he isn’t sure about Mason’s feelings. Brett can’t help but notice that Mason has left his hood open, despite his complaints that he didn’t like to sleep without it down because he doesn’t like being looked at.

Brett wakes up to the sound of Mason’s alarm he calibrates his phone to ring fifteen minutes before they serve the food.

“My first stop is a café. There is no decent food at _Charles-de-Gaulle._ ” Mason announces.

“I don’t care, I hate all airports.”

“Why? I mean they aren’t my favorite hang-out spots but you know.”

“I get sensory overload, which is why I always take the first flight in the morning or the latest flight.”

“Intense.” Mason says and Brett bites back a smile. “I can’t believe it slipped out.”

“I don’t mind.”

“We aren’t seventeen and stupid anymore. We can’t be so spontaneous.”

“We didn’t have much time to be stupid.” Brett reminded.

“No we didn’t.”

 _Why not be stupid now?_ He suddenly feels young and bold, and he wants to do something spontaneous like blow Mason while they hide in one of the pods.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” But Brett can tell from the shifts in his body chemistry that Mason is tempted. Before Brett can propose something salacious the stewardess comes with breakfast. They are quieter, but their gazes are lustful, their smiles knowing and the words they do exchange are filled with innuendoes and unspoken promises.

When they get off the plane Brett is surprised to note that Mason is taller though still shorter than him. _He would be so easy to kiss._ As he helps Mason collect his luggage he becomes aware that they are no longer separated by the pods, and by the look in his eye so is Mason. They say nothing as they approach the exit.

“Do you want to join me for coffee?” Mason asks finally.

“Coffee?” Brett parrots. He’d already envisioned pressing Mason against the door of his hotel room.

“Yes coffee. How long are you here for?”

“I’m here for four days.” Brett says resigned. He has several contracts to negotiate.

“I’m here for a week and a half before heading to Dakar.” Mason tells him.

Brett nods. He isn’t sure what Mason is trying to imply.

“Care to mix some pleasure with your business?” Mason asks teasingly. “Or are you all work no play?”

“Are you sure you want that coffee?” Brett growls. It has the desired effect; Mason’s eyes darken, his pulse accelerates and the heady smell of lust mingles with his scent.

“Don’t joke about important things.” Mason replies. They have much more important things to do; things involving a lot less clothes.

“I’m here for four days.” They don't have much time.

“Brett. We both know that you’re going to miss your flight home so we might as well have some decent coffee.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why but with the amount of research Mason does I picture him as an author. Mason refers to Liam as loser.
> 
> Make me happy and review, or give me kudos.


End file.
